#automoton

[panelperday]

Pitiless automoton

[knowncorpse]

The Matriarch 🤲

Diamond, an automoton with an interesting heart. Doomed by the narrative, after her sisters death she plans to bring the narrative down with her <3

She works at a 1920s themed casino called the Serendipity, where her sponsor protects her and shelters her in exchange for knowledge. Diamond does well to keep her emergence hidden.

[misterlemonztenth]

11-27-23 | misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[norgad-art]

[slashdementia7734]

Pike vs. the Automoton - Acid Test Zone

[ell-if-i-know]

my inner monologue is so weird its like 1-5 different versions of me, a bunch of stock images of fruit, and both the duck song and yakkos world on loop

[dukeofflannel]

Weird bug I found

[jollityfarm49]

[istherewifiinhell]

CAVING. [<- poor choice of words]. Failing to overcome tempation of getting mad at stupid lore.

for those who arent within ranting range in the last day or so. OR specifically snooping on the blog were these things end up by proxy. Iykyk. I might as well..... the tf ground vagina lore

Solus Prime <- blah blah one of 13 mythical first creations from robot god. Also

All female Transformers are patterned from her template and thus are gifted with a similar processing architecture, which is the main differentiation between them and their male counterparts.

Great. Thats a really mature and nuanced take on the whole. Robot gender situation.

In the chaos, Megatronus fired the Requiem Blaster without thinking, fatally wounding Solus Prime. Before Solus passed away, however, she professed her love for him. Solus's body returned to the core of Cybertron and Primus, and the passage it left behind became the Well of All Sparks.

Biblical fridging. One the foundational relgious events is the. ONE WOMAN. getting killed. Awesome. And uh thats biblical megatronus. Not like. Our guy. I mean. The guy. You know.

The Well of All Sparks is the fount from which Primus birthed the Cybertronian race.

Groundvagina. You know. For birthing robots. Why do we need to do that again.

Anyway if you need me ill be in 1984 where a couple of sciencist transformers learnt what dinosaurs were and said. You know what would be really funny.

.

[uraniumbones]

For those of you keeping up with the book of Bill and it's accompanying website and the bill cypher backstory. THE PARALLELS GOT ME FUCKED UP.

Spoilers incoming.

people love to talk about the dynamic between Stanford and Bill. Sure, interesting. But you know what people aren't talking about? Stanley and Bill. Specifically referencing the website (thisisnotawebsotedotcom.com)

If you input Stanley a bunch it will eventually open a new document instead of eBay pages. The page mocks Stanley and reveals his secrets or whatever. One of the clickable options on this page is "HOW HE BEAT ME". Each time you click into this is an increasingly deranged meltdown about how it shouldn't have been possible. Calling him a "cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness" among other things. And when further pressed accuses you of acting like "those PREACHY INFANTILIZING AUTOMOTONS AT THE THERAPRISM who are SO OBSESSED with getting me to TALK about my "FEELINGS"." After that he spirals further eventually talking about "how much pain I'm in" and only in code admitting "I can still see through the eyes of everyone I've ever..." presumably killed.

If you don't know shit about Euclydia read the wiki page on it, it's not long. tldr Euclydia is bills home dimension, which he destroyed and killed every single inhabitant of in blood and fire. He did so (accidentally?) in an attempt to show them the third dimension which (because of a genetic mutation) only he had the ability to see (with his eye). Please also note when Stanford asks about his home dimension Bill says it was"destroyed by a monster".

In the website's many documents it repeatedly makes reference to Bill's parents and how much they loved him, his home, his childhood (he wore velcro sneakers it's actually incredibly cute), the ways in which he was different and not easily accepted.

Now knowing all these things. A pattern may emerge to you. Are you seeing it? Are you seeing the patterns yet?

Obviously Bill hates Stanley because he's stupid and still he somehow beat Bill. That's annoying, maddening even. But I believe it goes beyond that. He hates him all the more passionately because Stanley reminds him of himself. The poem at the end of the Stanley password on the website summarizes it best "always dragged his family down / One mistake, disowned, denied, / only thing to do was hide." Destruction of his own family, running and hiding from his own mistakes. "Reinvent, retry, reload" trying again in a new life. "When your actions make it worse, / When they see you as a curse," Making things worse where you have tried to make them better. "Give the wheel one last spin, / Take your chips and go all in" this is what weirdmagedon was for both of them. and this is where their lives differ "And lucky stan- the rolls on black, / he got his life and family back. / His big break it finally came, / Redemption from a life of shame." AND THERE IT IS. Stanley got his family back. Bill didn't. (Which is what it seems he was attempting). Stanley got his redemption. Bill didn't.

Stanley was a lonely kid fuck up just like Bill was. And he absolutely hates Stanley's guts for it because he hates his own guts for it. And all this time they're the same, just trying to fix those mistakes, to have their family back again, to be loved again. They both have this facade of untouchable aloof levity, the same insults Bill hurls at Stanley may as well be hurled at himself. "Protected from his failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness"? "Cheap trick loving, past denying overgrown child"? You can see Bill goes from being outraged and insulting Stanley, to denying a deeper meaning to those feelings (and calling you a therapist), to talking about how much pain he is in (seemingly over all the people he killed in Euclydia), all without any specific prompting. Just pushing. Bill is the one that connected those things. Bill hates Stanley (at least partially) as an act of self hatred. Because he has made the same mistakes and can never forgive himself for them. AND (at least partially) because Stanley is not only just like him, but now just like him if he had succeeded. Stanley got his "Redemption from a life of shame". and in so doing actively prevented Bills.

Now do you see what I'm saying about THE PARALLELS?!

[felassan]

David Gaider on Shale, under a cut for length:

"Oops! I realized I'd moved on from DAO but missed one of the companions I'd written. Which checks out, honestly, because I almost didn't write Shale and, even after I'd written her, she almost didn't happen anyhow. Then she did. Prepare yourself for... PIGEON QUEST. 🦤 So... I'm wracking my brain, but I don't recall how Shale began. I have this vague memory of us wanting a "weird" party member who didn't conform to the normal classes (this was back when Dog didn't need to be in the party), and I think my mind drifted to an old indie comic character named Concrete."

"Now, your reaction to that is probably "who?" That's OK. When I explain that HK-47 in KotOR was inspired by an old Canadian TV show called the Littlest Hobo I get the same perplexed response. 😅 In short: Concrete was just a regular dude. Who happened to also be a walking hulk of rock. Cue hi-jinx. The problem here is I don't remember whether the Concrete thing was part of the original inspiration or something I thought of at the point when I started writing the character. Because I didn't, at first. That was later. Shale was initially taken on by Jay Turner, then one of our junior writers. Jay had an idea to make Shale more of a robot, an emotionless automoton killer... think HK-47, but without the layer of sarcasm. I was leery, and told Jay he'd have to be very careful. "Emotionless" can very quickly turn into "boring", after all, unless you're VERY careful. But Jay was determined. Sigh. This was a fail on my part, as his lead. There's been a couple of times in my career when I've let a junior convince me with their enthusiasm to take on something my experience said they shouldn't. And then watch their confidence crumble despite every effort I made to reassure them it was OK. This was one of those times. Jay, no idea if you'll read this but: I'm sorry. Even an experienced writer would have found that a daunting challenge. Tonia, my other Big Fail on a similar situation in DAI: I'm sorry. Both times, I should have known. You did your best, but I set you up to fail. 😔"

"Jay did his best, and this version of Shale was certainly interesting... but, when he was done, it was one of those peer reviews where every writer had that look of "I'm REALLY sorry to say this..." It felt flat. Jay tried numerous revisions, but the issue wasn't his ability - it was the concept. I only allowed my writers a certain number of tries before I take it away. This hearkens back to an earlier time at Bio when writers would hack away at something that wasn't working 6, 7, 8 times or more until finally their soul was dust. Mike Laidlaw can attest. Revision isn't always the answer. So I moved (a much relieved, I think) Jay onto something else, and the question arose: what do we do with Shale? Do we cut it? It was already very late. Then Shale dropped in my lap. I don't remember if it was me refusing to let it go or maybe Brent (Knowles, Creative Director) giving it to me. I suspect it was the latter, because I recall being a bit bitter about the whole thing. WHAT am I going to do with this character? At the time, they'd moved me out of the writers pit to instead be in a big office with the other leads. I had this corner desk by a window (yay) with an awful view (ugh) What was so awful about it? It looked out onto the neighbouring roof, where there was only an HVAC unit to see. In the winter, pigeons would gather around it. They pooped all over everything - there was this alcove around the access door, right? The pigeons roosted there and it was POOP FAUCET city."

"Not only that, the pigeons used the HVAC like some kind of sex den. Angry, ugly pigeon sex. The only respite was when a hawk would appear and the pigeons scattered. Then I'd get maybe a day when there was a single pigeon corpse, like an exploded ball of down, to act as a scarecrow. Good days, those. What does any of this have to do with Shale? Well, there's me, staring out the window trying desperately to think what I'm going to do. But I CAN'T stare out the window because, gross. But what else am I going to stare at while I think? It was making me furious. I hated those pigeons SO SO MUCH. And then it hit me: Shale is basically an animated statue, right? Something that pigeons are rather notorious for also gathering on? And so I wrote. I wrote like the angry, angry wind. I had zero time to do this so it was basically me vomiting all my annoyance at everything into a single character. Not that it helped much. There was a battle going on over Shale - first, as I recall, it was the art team. They were going to make every doorway in the game EXTRA HUGE because they were worried that Shale was too large and might clip. So, yes, let's alter the whole world to fix that. Good idea. 🙃 Eventually, they compromised by making Shale smaller. Sten-sized. Or Brent went Akira mode, but I don't really know. This was a battle happening above my level. Yet Shale got cut anyhow. There wasn't time to do her abilities and we were short on cinematics time. There was never enough time on DAO."

""Oh well," I thought. "That's that." I did what I could, but cut content is almost never resurrected. The idea was floated of making Shale into a DLC but I scoffed. Yeah, right! But... it happened. That's why the "almost" is there. Enough of the team liked Shale they made it happen this one time. This meant I could finish up the writing once we'd more or less wrapped DAO, and the rest of the team (cinematics, in particular, who were pressed the hardest for time) could move onto the Shale DLC once they were ready. It was supposed to come out well after release, but you know. Shenanigans. This particular shenanigan was EA deciding to sit on the finished DAO a few months in order to delay the release. Why? Again, not my level. To get closer to Christmas, maybe, or maybe for sim ship. It did mean Shale ended up being ready for release day. Unexpected confluence of events, honestly. Cue some fans getting upset that "cut content" was sold to them separately, which... fair, I guess? The alternative would have been that Shale was simply cut, period, and it just worked out this way but... yes, fair. This was back when DLC was the main beef of hardcore gamers. Oh, the good old days. Overall? I have a soft spot for Shale. She has no soft spot for anyone, being... you know... made of rock. It's why I put her in Asunder, and why she was also going to be in the - apparently now notorious for its Fenris murder - cancelled fourth DA novel. Also, if you're a pigeon fan: not sorry. 😇"

[source thread]

[tylermileslockett]

Mount Olympus: Home of the Olympians

       The real-world Mount Olympus is the highest peak in Greece and is located between the borders of Thessaly and Macedonia. The kingdom of the gods sits high upon the mountain as a majestic, bronze Acropolis (fortified hill top citadel). In Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey we get our earliest references, where the peaks of Olympus are described as “rugged’ or “cloud-dark” and the acropolis described as “bronze-founded”  and “under golden clouds.” (Lattimore). The fortress sits below the great sky dome, within in a specific position upon the mountain, in the light, blue upper air of Aether. Below that was the middle air Khaos which enveloped mortals, and finally the lower, dark subterranean mists of Erebos.

Guarding the gates were the goddesses of Seasons, constellations, and time; the Horai. Within the fortress complex was Zeus’ grand palace, along with the lesser palaces of other Olympians, and a divine stable for many of the different gods’ immortal chariot horses. In the golden court, the Olympians held councils to decide mortals’ fates, and feast-hall style banquets; drinking sweet, magical Nectar from golden goblets and eating restorative Ambrosia to maintain immortality by sustaining the fluid within the gods veins; Ichor. Twenty golden tripod Automotons (programmed machines), ingeniously invented by the smith god Hephaestus, autonomously wheeled food and drink amongst the deities. 

Did I miss any fascinating info about Olympus? Please let me know below! And if you can share this image with your followers I'll be happy to send you over an automaton with a goblet of ambrosia to keep your ichor running clear!😁🤟❤️

Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024.

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

Never Stop Blowing Up theories:

boy group battle-royale-to-the-death of all the boy groups

trench warfare, everyone's attacks are only bombs

everyone is bombs

gritty live action yellow submarine reboot set in the cold war

gritty bomberman reboot set in the american war

minesweeper meets minecraft meets chris angel mindfreak

chasing stardom in the post-zombie apocalypse

series of lightly themed keep talking and nobody explodes minigames

the only hope against the kaiju is untested size-shifting technology

the aliens invade from a planet with much higher atmospheric pressure

a day in the life of shakerston: the nightvale but for natural disasters instead of conspiracy theories

the oregon path: the unliscensed ill-advised game show. only on quibi

automotons from the clockwork/time bomb workshop find their way home

kids on bikes? nah volcanoes on surfboards

welcome yon traveler to balloon animal country where oxygen is expensive and balloon life is cheap

we can't be superheroes we're too busy being the best lawyer, detective, doctor, senator, spy, and journalist in the city respectively

madame millington's barely haunted manor for wayward rising nashville country starlets

prospector gold rush for the dragon's hoard

medical procedural following the onsite staff at the youtuber mansion

constant pc deaths, everyone has three backup characters minimum

lou dms (i the viewer am the one who blows up)

[nullen-void]

What Use Are Explorers In An Empty World?

[Hollow Knight/Bug Fables]

Part 2

---------------------------------------

Hallownest. The last and only kingdom, so they say. Beyond it are only endless wastes or endless stone, tunnels long since collapsed, and incomprehensible horrors. If there was ever anything beyong her borders, none remain who are able or willing to talk about it. There is nowhere else.

Kabbu always thought that that was a load of nonsense. After all, he knew he came from the north... but that was all he knew. There were newcomers to Hallownest all the time, but they rarely knew more than snippets of before crossing the border. Master Lurien said that they came to Hallownest feral, mere animals, and it was only after arriving that the Pale Light granted them the spark of intelligence.

Kabbu... doubted, though he would never say as much out loud. He remembered happy faces and jokes shared among friends, even if the names and faces were missing. The feeling remained to fill the void left by the memories. And he very definitely traveled to the kingdom with two others, based on what the ants who saved him from the garpede said. They were not so lucky, but Kabbu had returned to the scene of the attack since. He knew in his heart that they gave their lives to defend him. Would a mere animal do such a thing?

But he would never voice these thoughts out loud. The bugs of Hallownest worshipped the King as a god and believed everything he said, and Lurien was among the most devout. If the King said that there was nowhere else, and Kabbu said that that couldn't be true, Kabbu would be shunned for daring to voice dissent.

...Perhaps he was being paranoid. Lurien was a good bug, and a good boss. His fanaticism only served to make him an ever more effective Watcher, and Kabbu respected him dearly.

Maybe, Kabbu thought, if he could see the Pale King in the shell, he'd get why everyone else revered him so. But as he looked out over the City of Tears, watching the endless rain splash against the glass, all he could think was that maybe he should have stayed with the Ants. Elizant II had her own hangups, but she didn't hide from her subjects and demand worship. She ruled by action, proving herself in every decree. No ant went hungry in the Colony's borders.

From here, Kabbu aimed his telescope at a darkened alley. A loose lumafly fluttered over the head of a destitute butterfly, his wings waterlogged and torn. Kabbu felt for the poor bug... but as a Watcher all he could do was make a note of it and hope it found its way to someone who could do something about it.

It wouldn't. They never did. All that came of it was a reprimand for not paying attention to important things.

"Kabbu."

The beetle jumped, fumbling his telescope. He managed to catch it before it could break on the floor, and he turned to looked up at the robed figure of his boss. "Yes, Master Lurien!"

"At ease," the bug of indeterminate species said, waving an arm. "Are you well, Kabbu?"

"Of course, sir!"

Lurien stared at him through the hole in his mask. Kabbu could see no eyes, but he felt the gaze all the same. "...You were sighing again, Kabbu."

He was? He hadn't noticed. He sighed, then caught himself as he realized he did it again. "I apologize, Master Lurien. I just... don't feel like I'm making a difference, up here."

Lurien tilted his head. "Don't feel like--Kabbu, you've spotted five robberies and four assaults this past week alone. Last month you provided ongoing reports during an active pursuit that were critical in preventing that murderous spider from getting away. You're a valuable member of the Watchers."

Kabbu fidgeted. "But who is comforting the victims? Who is helping the lay-bug with their troubles? The King's automotons are formidable, but they lack the care that a normal guard would. I am stopping criminals, but am I helping bugs?"

Lurien leaned back, absorbing that. "...Hm."

"Please don't misunderstand me!" Kabbu added hastily. "I enjoy the work, I do! I know I'm doing good work up here, but--"

"I understand." Lurien rubbed his chin through the mask, a curious quirk of his Kabbu never understood. "You know, Kabbu, you've built up some vacation time. Perhaps it would do you good to get out of the Spire for a few days."

"Oh, Master Lurien, I couldn't possibly--"

"And if," Lurien said, raising his voice to cut Kabbu's protests off, "In that time, you happen to patronize the Soul Sanctum, perhaps you could pick me up a souvenir? I've been meaning to go on one of their guided tours, but all these missing bugs cases are occupying my time too much."

Kabbu blinked, trying to parse the odd emphasis in Lurien's speech. "...I--wait, hold on. Are you suggesting--"

Lurien raised a digit to hush him. "I would never say anything ill towards my venerable colleague the Soul Master, of course," Lurien added, with heavy sarcasm. "The Sanctum is the foremost compository of learning in Hallownest, after all."

Kabbu thought furiously. He wasn't stupid, he could read between the lines. "And of course, if I see anything untoward," he mused under his breath, "I can act in my capacity as a Watcher to--Yes, of course you're right, sir," Kabbu agreed. "I have been under the weather lately. A break is just the thing I need, yes sir."

Lurien chuckled. "At ease, again, Kabbu. I understand the desire to be down on the ground with the Kingsmoulds. You are far from the first Watcher to say as much. Maybe after you return, I can talk to His Majesty about letting officers patrol alongside them. There ARE still tasks the Moulds are ill-equipped for, I've noticed."

Kabbu's eye widened, but he pushed his surprise down quickly. "Yes sir, thank you sir."

Lurien turned to leave. "Finish your shift, Kabbu. I need to find someone to cover your station while you're 'on vacation,' hah."

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

ok thief in a dragon lair anon i see you i understand you and i want to put a spin on it- instead of growing tails and horns, becoming part of the horde. burned, smelted. Anointed with gold, plated over and scaled with coins. Parts replaced, one by one. sustained by dragon magic, by the liquid fire of life it breathes and fucks into you. Perhaps in the end you are in a human shape, a dragon, shape, or some other shape. Becoming a vessel, a glimmering, gold and glass entity, a person but not a person anymore, the jewel of its horde. (in this fantasy you are still alive and conscious by the end for me but I totally also respect if some ppl would like this as a ssnuff fantasy :3 I personally like the idea of you being paralyzed, frozen in whatever way it poses and leaves you, only animate when it breathes into and fucks your almost automoton like form into life for a short while)

.